


When the Bad Guy Wins

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock hears the words and knows he's fucked</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Bad Guy Wins

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "The Bad Guy Wins" by 3OH!3 - you should check it out!

Brock was training in the gym when he got the call to go up to Fury's office. He went, of coursenot completely without complaint, but that's just the way he is.

Fury was sitting behind his large desk when Brock entered, looking at some files projected holographically. Brock tried to peak at them without letting on that he was peaking at them, and saw enough of it before Fury dismissed it to know that some big mission was going down; probably the reason that Fury had called him to his big bad office in the first place.

Fury told him some story about his grandfather, who was apparently a nice man but always carried a gun while walking the streets and blah, blah, blah...Frankly, Brock stopped listening after a point, just nodding and agreeing in all the right places. Eventually, Fury stopped the history lesson he had decided to give for some unfindable reason and started talking about the mission.

The Director told him about a town where a super-powered group of people were brainwashing people and making them all follow them in some crazy (well, crazi _er)_ version of a cult. Brock was to lead STRIKE Team Alpha to the town and take down the group to free all of the people currently under his thrall. STRIKE Team Alpha would then pack up while another team of SHIELD Agentsless field active oneswould arrive and debrief the townspeople. It was a pretty simple mission, over all, cut and dry. That is, it seemed to be, until Fury mentioned the fact that Steve Rogers _Captain America_ would be going with them.

That's why Brock was currently headed to the quinjet with a frown on his face.

Brock could really care less about Steve Rogers one way or another. Sure, a lot of people fawned over him, and most Hydra agents seriously hated him, but Brock simply didn't have feeling one way or the other. Who cared if this blonde haired, muscly man had managed to take down Hydra in his day? Hydra had survived, obviously, so no harm done, really. If anything, Brock felt a little bad for the guy; he'd sacrificed himself to end an organization that just so happened to not only survive, but grew throughout the organization founded by the guy's first love.

It was a weird situation.

So, Brock's frown was not out of anger or nervousness for having to deal with _Captain America,_ but annoyance at the fact that he had to deal with _Steve Rogers;_ the guy had a reputation for being a big puppy dog when he wasn't leading an entire army against Hydra. Jack Rollins, a man Brock was pretty sure was Hydra (he wasn't sure; they were all in shadow protocol, which meant no talking about Hydra, so Brock couldn't be certain), had described Rogers as 'a lost kid' when he saw him around SHIELD. Brock didn't want someone who couldn't step up on his team, even if said person _was_ Captain America.

"Rumlow!" Someone called his name, and Brock turned. He saw Rollinswho was another member of STRIKE Team Alphajogging up to him, already decked out in his tac gear like Brock was. Brock nodded his greeting. "Did you hear that Rogers is going to be joining us? They're thinking of adding him to our STRIKE Team."

Brock just shrugged and continued walking towards the quinjet. "As long as the stories about him are true, and he can fight, then I don't care. He can be president, for all I care, as long as he doesn't get in my way."

* * *

It was a fucking minefield.

Literally. The group of batshit crazy powered-people had forced the townsfolk to build a bunch of bombs, and them plant them in strategic points as to keep someone from entering the town. If he hadn't been trying to take the group down, Brock might have admired their skill in knowing exactly where to put the bombs. Now it was just an annoyance.

Brock really hated the idea, but the team finally came to the conclusion that their best idea was to get back in the quinjet and repel down on ropes into the town. Brock hated this idea because it would leave them open to any kind of attack, unlike when they were walking in, because they could use the cover of the trees surrounding the town. Now, that was no longer an option, and it pissed Brock off to no end.

So, STRIKE Team Alpha got back on the quinjet and made their way over the tree line and into the town. They caught a break, seeing a place to land instead of having to repel down, and so their pilot set them down in a small yet open area, and they were good to go.

The fighting was a mess, when it started. Townspeople and powered-people alike had been armed, some of the power-people using crazy abilities to fight. Brock found himself very torn between wanting to do what he did best and take down his opponents, and the fact that if he killed a bunch of mind-controlled civilians he would get in a lot of trouble back at Headquarters.

At one point, Brock found himself fighting against five people all by himself, two of which had superpowers. One of the powered-people, a guy with the ability to control fire, had managed to get a few good shots in, and Brock was hurting a lot. He was trying his hardest, but the pain was slowing him down. He was just about to fall to his knees after a particularly bad hit when suddenly the fire-controller yelled and crashed to the ground.

Brock looked up in surprise, wondering about what the hell had just happened, and was even more shocked at the sight before him. Captain America was standing right in front of him, shield secured on one arm, the other extended towards Brock to help him to his feet.

Brock considered ignoring the hand for a minute, but decided that he hurt _just enough_ that getting a little help to stand couldn't suck. "Thanks," he said to Rogers as he got to his feet, "I'm usually better at saving my own ass. Now, back to work!" Brock didn't know why Rogers was suddenly gaping at him, mouth open and eyes wide, and, frankly, he didn't care much, jumping back into the fight easily.

Soon the fighting was over and done with, with only three civilian causalities. Brock had a few wounds that definitely needed to be checked out by medicalincluding some nasty burnsand a bunch of prisoners being taken into SHIELD custody.

"I'm fine," Brock said for maybe the millionth time, batting away a doctor's hand, "the only thing hurt is my ego!"

The doctor gave him a look and redoubled her efforts, not taking any of his crap and just trying to clean the wound on his forehead. Brock decided he liked her and the way she was immune to his (quite charming) smile.

After an hour spent in medical, and another couple spent in debrief with Coulson and Sitwell, Brock was finally free. He immediately went to his on-base quarters to take a shower and get some clean clothes. When he was done freshening up, he tried to lie down and get some much needed sleep, but Brock found that he had too much pent up energy from the mission so he decided to head down to the gym and get some of it out.

He immediately went to the punching bag, stepping easily into the stance and bouncing on his toes like a boxer. He ducked and darted like he would in the ring, too, throwing punch after punch. After a while he built up a sweat and pulled his shirt off to try and cool down, then went right back to using the punching bag. He'd been at it for maybe forty-five when he felt a pair of eyes on him, and realized that he'd been so wrapped up in what he'd been doing that he had missed the fact that the person had been watching him for a while.

Brock straightened and turned, eyes quickly scanning the nearly empty gym before landing on the large blonde standing over by another of the punching bags, less than ten feet away. When the manSteve freaking Rogerssaw Brock looking back, he quickly averted his eyes, cheeks turning pink. He looked back over after a few seconds, and seemed to make up his mind about something, walking over to Brock with his chin lifted.

Brock rose his eyebrows and shook out his hands out to get rid of some of the tension that had accumulated in his knuckles-area. Rogers stood and stared at Brock for a few moments, mouth opening as if he was going to say something and then closing. Eventually, Brock just internally rolled his eyes and spoke. "Is there something that I can help you with, Captain?"

Rogers winced slightly. "No, you don'tyou of all people don't have to call me Captain," he said with a small, sad smile.

Brock froze. No. No, no, no. That wasn't possible. There was no way! Rogers must have seen those words in his file, and was playing some kind of sick joke on Brock because...because...well, Brock didn't know why _Captain America_ would play that kind of joke, but there was no way that Steve Rogers, the bane of Hydra, would have truly said his Words. The words on his Soulmark.

"Rogers," Brock said, voice a little hoarse, "if this is some kind of joke-"

Rogers looked horrified. "No! Oh no, I would _never_ do that," he rushed to assure Brock. "No, not at all. You said my Words back on the battlefield," Steve cracked a smile that Brock hated to admit was kind of cute, "I must have looked like an idiot, huh? All gob smacked...yea, you definitely looked at me like I was crazy. Then you just dove right back into the fighting. It was a sight to behold, that's for sure," Steve rubbed a hand over the nape of his neck nervously. He then pulled the neck of his shirt down, showing the small black-colored words standing out against his pale skin.

Soulmarks had been in the earliest of recordings historians could find. Even the bible mentioned them, saying they were some sacred bonding that bound two people together forever. Everyone was born with the first words their Soulmate would say to them somewhere on their body, in the handwriting their Soulmate would have at the time of their meeting. Most Soulmarks were black, but about one person out of a million had a colored one, the color meaning something special to both people; there were online databases for people with colored Soulmarks to find each other.

Brock had grown up knowing that being someone's Soulmate did not mean that the relationship would work. His parents were a good example of that; Soulmates, but his father had beaten his mother regularly. So, really, Brock had never put much stock into Soulmates like most people did; he had never thought that finding his Soulmate was his only chance at love, if he ever decided that he wanted love. But now, looking at  _Steve Rogers,_ the man that was his organization's greatest enemy, the man that was holding his shirt down to reveal the first words that Brock had ever said to him, the man that had this stupidly adorable smile on his face, filled with hope for the future. Hope for  _their_ future.

Frankly, Brock didn't know how he felt about it.

Not knowing what else to do, Brock lifted his arm, turning it so that the pale inside of it was facing where Steve was standing. The first words Steve had said to him, written in neat, black print that was  _of course_ Captain America's handwriting.  _'No, you don'tyou of all people don't have to call me Captain'._

Brock had always wondered about those words. When he was little, staring at those words had been the reason he'd admired people in the army and all the other branches of the military. Even while his father was beating his mother and Brock was learning that  _'Soulmate'_ did not mean _'perfect',_ the childish part of him, the part that still clung to fairy tales, was thinking it would be great to meet a Captain, and call him by his title, and then have those words said to him. But when he was older and in the army, he had already given up on his Soulmate.

And now, there his Soulmate was, standing in all his blonde and muscular glory. Steveand really, when had  _Rogers_ become  _Steve?_ was suddenly moving closer, his pace sure and steady. Brock resisted the urge to back away, still completely uncertain about this whole situation, but he was too prideful and too well trained to actually back away from someone who  _was_ a threat to him, let alone someone who definitely  _wasn't._

Steve stepped into his personal space and then seemed to become unsure of himself again, like he hadn't completely thought this through. Brock ended up deciding for him. He tilted his head with a cocky smirk and said, "scared now,  _Captain?_ Best way to do anything is to jump right in. But I warn you; I'm no cuddly teddy-bear, and I'm kind of an asshole most of the time. You better be sure, because there is no  _'testing the waters'_ with me. Dive in, or get your ass out of the pool."

The super soldier's eyes widened slightly, but then he grinned, and Brock couldn't breathe for a minute because it was just beautiful (and yes, he hated himself for being so goddamn gooey) and then Steve's lips were on his. Suddenly Brock felt like he was on fire, every cell in his body igniting and becoming electrified in pure happiness. People had always described their first kiss with their Soulmate as an otherworldly experience, but Brock had never really believed it. He definitely did now.

* * *

"Report," Pierce demanded, sitting behind his large desk. Brock stepped forward, hands folded behind his back, feet shoulder-width apart, back ram-rod straight.

It had been five days since Brock's first meeting with Steve Rogers. He had spent the whole time in turmoil, completely conflicted about what to. Should he report this to his superiors? Should he report the fact that _Captain America_ was Brock Rumlow's Soulmate to his Hydra masters? Surely they would try and use this against Steve. Brock knew that something was coming, a change; Hydra might even be coming out of the shadows. Having Captain America's Soulmate working for them could be a valuable asset. _Brock_ would be a valuable asset.

Finally, after five whole days of intense deliberation, Brock came to the decision that he _had_ to report it. No matter the fact that Steve was cute and funny and so very, _very_ kind, Brock was loyal to Hydra. He believed in what Hydra was doing. The world needed order, and Hydra could bring that order. Maybe he could show Steve...no, no, Steve was set in his ways, firm in his beliefs. He would not be turned to Hydra's ideals.

"Sir," Brock said, standing at attention like the good soldier he was, "there has been a... _development._ _"_

Pierce raised his eyebrows and waved his hand in a circular motion. "Well? I haven't got all day, Rumlow, spit it out. Has something happened with Rogers or Romanov or Barton? It _is_ your job to watch them, after all."

This was it, the moment that would change everything. He could still back down, give some menial information about the two master assassins, say that Steve was simply a dolt, not worth the effort to take him down. Brock could do all of that, quite easilyhe was a wonderful liarand protect Steve. Protect his _Soulmate._ It wouldn't be hard, all he would have to do is tell one little lie...But no, he couldn't. He wouldn't lie to the leader of Hydra. Not even for the man he...No, he wouldn't go there.

"I found Rogers' Soulmate," Brock forced the words out. They grated against his throat, and he could practically feel physical pain at the action of betraying his Soulmate. He pushed the thought violently from his mind as Pierce leaned forward, gaze much more intense then before.

"Who?" Pierce demanded. "Can we use them? Find out everything you can about them; we have to know if there is anything we can use to get them to work for us. Use the Incentives Program if you have to, but I want this person working for me by the end of the week!"

Brock took a deep breath. This was it; no turning back now... "It's me, Sir." Pierce stood, leaning over the desk, and Brock rushed to explain. "I found out five days ago. We exchanged each others' first words. He seems to have already made up his mind about me; he has kept in steady contact since we met, and officially asked me to date him earlier today. I accepted, of course. Do with this what you will."

Brock stood completely still, waiting for whatever Pierce's response to the revelation would be. Finally, after a minute of tense silence, Pierce spoke. "You've had this information for five days?" He asked, voice deadly calm. Brock nodded tersely, and Pierce stepped around the desk, stopping when he was standing right in front of Brock. Suddenly Brock's head snapped to the side as Pierce struck himhardacross the face, and Brock stayed very still, knowing that a wrong move could turn this situation from bad to much, much, worse.

Pierce sighed and shook his head as if disappointed. "I understand," he said, causing Brock to look at him, not comprehending what he meant. "I do, really. You had just met your Soulmate, you were confused and conflicted, but you came to the right decision, RumlowBrock. You have proved that you are, indeed, loyal to Hydra. You chose us over your Soulmate, and now I know that I can trust you with a very valuable mission."

"Sir?" Brock asked, not sure what to say.

"You have the perfect opening, Brock," Pierce replied, moving back around the desk. "You are the Soulmate of Hydra's greatest enemy, and we need to use this to our advantage. You are to do everything in your power to get close to him, which shouldn't be too hard, all things considered, and then, when its time to take SHIELD down, you will lead him away and kill him."

Brock fought against the urge to shudder, hating himself for his own weakness. The idea of killing Steve was appalling to him; it felt like something he could never do. People who lost their Soulmates were never the same again, a literal part of themselves dying. People who _killed_ their Soulmates...well, Brock didn't really want to know what that would do to a man.

"Yes, Sir," Brock said, not giving away his inner turmoil. "Whatever you say, Sir."


End file.
